


Tastes like despair ... or maybe just salt

by Ameise



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameise/pseuds/Ameise
Summary: Marianne is a casteless dwarf that has fled from the Anderfels to escape circumstances beyond her control. At Skyhold she meets a warden that makes her heart beat faster. Can a dwarf find love in a cold foreign land? Can Thom Rheinier overcome his past? Can both not be awkward for 2 seconds?
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Original Female Character(s), Blackwall/Female Dwarf, Blackwall/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Skyhold

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to go back to Cullen or Solas but Thom could use some loving. #Lumbersexual

Marianne had never considered how much larger other races were than dwarves. At first, she was surprised when they looked straight over her or bumped into her because they did not look down. Of course, even for a dwarf, she was not tall, a fact that some had attributed to the fact that she was born a cloud gazer and had apparently no longer any connection to the stone. If she should bemoan this, she was unsure of after all the tales she heard from other surface dwarves born into the stone … and left.

Cloudgazer, an apt name she realized after she had spent some time on the road with other races. Every time she wanted to talk to them, she had to look up, sometimes being blinded by the sun. When the little caravan she had, at last, joined reached Skyhold, she was awestruck. It was so big and imposing but, at the same time, very uncomfortably close to the Sky. She looked at the low parapets of the battlements and felt nausea rising in her stomach. She would never get used to this.

The line that had formed at the gate consisted of mostly humans, some elves, and even fever dwarves. The guards in front of it looked bored and irritated, a fact Marianne contributed to the chilling wind that swept over the bridge to the gate. It permeated all layers of clothing and settled on the skin like prickles of needles. She took her place behind one of the elves that had traveled in her caravan, a woman of great beauty, legs that ran up to Marianne’s chest, big thoughtful eyes, a lithe built and graceful gait. Marianne pulled her short tunic down and tried to straighten it to no avail. Her breeches felt uncomfortable around her waist. Everything felt itchy and out of order.

When the beautiful elf was at the front of the line, her teeth had begun to gnaw at her lower lip, a habit she didn`t seem to be able to shake no matter how hard she tried. Time flowed slowly like the half-frozen river they had to pass earlier. Again, she tried to straighten her appearance but gave up after one look at the elf in front of her. She wore mismatched ill-fitting clothes and still looked like she just stepped out of a royal court. No matter how much she pulled on her clothing, she would always look like a frumpy little dwarf.

It still irritated her, however, that the two, the guard and the elf, seemed to ignore her altogether. It was cold, and she was hungry. If she couldn’t be the object of admiration, she wanted at least to be inside and have a warm meal. What had she expected, that the inquisition would be different?

She cleared her throat for the third time to get the attention of the guard.

“Excuse me, could I maybe go inside. I’ve been waiting for quite some time now.”

He didn’t even look at her but continued to chat with the beautiful elven woman that stood in front of her in the line at the gates. Heat rose to bed cheeks, she turned her head away. She felt smaller and more insignificant than she had at home and questioned her decision to leave it and join the newly formed inquisition. But... Andraste had chosen a herald! What was a little inconvenience to this?

With a new resolve, she turned to the guard again, “Excuse me, I’ve been waiting for quite some time, and it’s freezing out here! Could you please let me through?”

The guard finally looked down at her and scoffed, “Aren’t you feisty. You want through you have to wait your turn now shut up you little...”He stopped mid-sentence.

Heavy boot had lanted themselves next to her, and she startled. The owner of the boot seemed to be having an instant effect on the guard who now ignored her again and looked at the person next to her with at least a little respect. When Marianne tried to sneak a glimpse of whoever just arrived, her heart skipped a beat. The man was tall and dark. His armor was polished, and in the sun, the Sigil of the grey wardens glinted and shone like a beacon.

“Is that a way to talk to a lady?” his voice, it was so... oh no-no-no. What was she thinking? This was very obviously a warden of high rank. Before her thoughts could continue, the Warden had continued to chastise the guard and was now looking directly at her. “Please excuse this man’s behavior. It is not customary to be greeted to Skyhold like this, Miss...?”

Her throat suddenly felt parched like she hadn’t drunk anything for days. A lump formed in her belly. Hot and fluttering.

“Ma... Marianne, sir,” she managed to croak out.

A smile spread beneath his bushy beard and where before he had seemed like a solemn man, he now radiated warmth. Marianne couldn’t turn away even though an even deeper blush than before crept up her face. She thanked him with her voice thin and cracking and fled inside as soon as the guard would let her, feeling the man’s eyes on her back until she turned a corner.

In the evening, when she had settled in her small cot in the Herald's Rest, she realized with horror that she had neither thanked the Warden nor asked his name. Before sleep took her to the dreamless black that is a dwarf’s night, she promised herself she would find and thank him for the help.

* * *

The next morning she was woken early by Cabot and put to work before she could get to her task, and by the break of fast, she had forgotten her promise.

"My second maid ran off, and I cannot run this tavern with only one maid. You'll be the one clearing the tables. My cousin tells me you are a hard worker, I hope he was telling the truth."

"Yes, sir, I can work very hard." She assured him, "I am used to it."

Cabot seemed to be pleased and assured her that the pay would reflect her hard work. Over the next weeks, he kept her busy, and while the fall storms turned slowly into winter storms outside, the Herald's Rest was warm and cozy. Cabot seemed happy that he no longer had to run up the stairs himself. Klara, the other maid, was apparently excited to have someone to gossip with. Marianne was happy to oblige both as long as she could stay indoors and not brave the increasingly cold temperatures of the Frostbacks.

The guests were a wild bunch of people. All races and walks of life seemed to visit the Herald's Rest. Sadly the titular Herald of Andraste seemed to be on some kind of mission. Klara whispered of Grey Wardens and the champion of Kirkwall. For a few days, Marianne thought about the friendly Warden again. She asked Klara if she knew him, and Clara told her that it must be the Warden that traveled with the Inquisitor. Then she chuckled, "but he is boring. Wardens are way to righteous. The whole taint thing is a turn off anyways. But have you heard that one of the chantry sisters had some dealings with the big Qunari that is sometimes with the Inquisitor?"

Marianne was sure that wardens were everything but boring but did not want to argue with Klara.

"Maybe you don't know many wardens? I have met quite a few. At home, we hold them in high regard."

"Home? Oh, I thought that your accent sounded not like any I've heard 'round here. I just thought that was a dwarven thing." Klara looked at her with big eyes and a half-open mouth. "So, where are you from? Cabot said you are friends with his cousin."

"Friends is too strong. I met his cousin, and he said he'd knew a place where I could help the inquisition. I… I wanted to help the Herald of Andraste." Marianne examined her shoes very closely and coughed. "I am from Anderfels. I…"

"Anderfels???" Klara was basically jumping at her now. "I've met so few people from there. Is it true what they say about the ham?"

"The ham?" Marianne blinked a few times, "oh the … yes." She sighed in defeat. "People say it tastes like despair."

Klara was clapping her hands, "why would anyone eat that? Who needs despair in their life?"

As Klara continued to talk about the one accomplishment of Anders cuisine that anyone has ever heard of, Marianne mumbled so low that Klara didn't even register it, " _I_ think it only tastes _salty_." 

That night she closed her eyes and listened to the raging wind she could pretend that she was still at home. Sometimes she had to push the thought away to find rest, but tonight she thought about all the midwinter feasts with the grey salted ham as a special treat. One a castless dwarf without connections could ill afford every week. She thought about the steppe, about the vast expanse of land that stretched on and on till your eyes could no longer differentiate between the ground and the sky in the hazy distance.

She had long stopped thinking about the Warden at the gate. Many new and colorful people congregated at the Herald's Rest made her head sometimes felt dizzy, trying to remember all the information and names. The night before midwinter's day was an incredibly busy one. Many had taken the next day off to celebrate and wanted to start with a good meal and a strong drink. Cabot had prepared a drink for this very occasion. A large kettle of warmed and spiced mead hung over the fire and simmered the whole evening, filling the entire room with the heavy scent. Whenever a customer ordered it, he would take some baked apple and drop it into a mug, topping it off with the hot liquid until it foamed up to the brim.

The large Qunari Klara had called Iron Bull, and his friends that always occupied a few tables had ordered even more bottles of the horrible imported stuff they usually had. Maryden was playing folk tunes that most seemed to know at least some words to. The singing made the Herald's Rest feel cozy and festive. Everyone seemed to be having fun. Smiles on most faces meant useful tips for Marianne, and she made sure to keep the spirit of the holiday up. As the evening progressed, more and more customers invited her to a toast or a song, and she realized a little too late how deceptive the sweetly spiced mead was.

People had talked all evening about an event that her clouded mind could not piece together from the fragments of conversation. Apparently, the Inquisitor had just returned from somewhere and planned on marching on some kind of fortress. A warden fortress? She could not make sense of it and attributed it to the mead. Her head felt lighter and lighter. She had just decided to step outside to sober up when the door was flung open in front of her, and the Inquisitor himself was standing in front of her. Next to him the right hand of the late divine, Andraste’s mercy upon her. Her hazy view wandered on, and she was stunned, her Warden... no, THE Warden was standing next to them.

Why was he here? Yes, right, they just returned from somewhere. The Approach? He still looked so...

"Excuse me, Miss, could you maybe make a little room for us to get through. It's a little chilly outside." The Herald of Andraste grinned at her.

Marianne snapped back into reality as if someone had slapped her, "oh?!?, "she stepped aside, lowering her head, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Of course, your worship."

"Don't trouble yourself on our behalf. We just want to have a few drinks to get into the holiday spirit." The Inquisitor grinned from one ear to the other and winked at the right hand of the divine that answered his wink with a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes.

Time seemed to have slowed down, or maybe she really had a bad reaction to the mead. The trio walked past her, the Inquisitor still talking to the woman... but the Warden. ... he ... looked at her. Maybe for hours, or perhaps just for a split second. Marianne would never be able to tell. He smiled at her, and she felt as if her heart might burst out if her chest.

Time stretched, eyes twinkled at her, and his mouth was forming words that her drunk ears could no longer comprehend. The world vanished into darkness.


	2. Midwinter

The darkness encompassing her, swallowing all sound, and consciousness felt similar to her sleep. A dwarf's nights are silent and dark, filled with the black nothingness that the fade's absence left. Her mother called it "resting in the stone," which was as close to the sensation as words could describe. Sometimes young dwarfs are disappointed when they hear about the dreams of their peers. However, the older dwarves grow, the more they embrace this peculiar state of being. Of course, there were rumors. In the Anderfels, some dwarven Gray Wardens talked about the disturbing night visions that came after a dwarf's joining. Marianne had always been firm in her belief that it was best if she would not relive all the horrible things she'd seen at night. 

When she opened her eyes, she was stretched out on a bench on the Herald's Rest's top floor.   
"Darkness, dreamless, delving into the Old Song that stopped singing… Try not to move too quickly, or you will feel worse! "   
She slowly turned her now aching head towards the voice that spoke to her from somewhere. Its tone worried but not hostile.   
"I brought you some water. "   
It was the strange boy who sometimes seemed to be at the Herald's Rest, but she could never find when she looked for him. Was he really a demon as some had whispered behind his back. What had Klara called him? Marianne slowly sat up. Her stomach and head protested. She tried to puzzle together what had happened after she opened the door.  
"Cautious, careful too much hurt but drawn like a moth to the flame. "   
"Excuse me? What are you talking about? "   
"He feels safe and secure. A home that helps to heal the hurt. I am so small, can he even see me? "She looked alarmed.  
"Wha-what?"   
"I'm sorry. I made it worse. Should I make you forget? "  
Another voice interrupts the strange boy, "That's enough, Cole. Let her get over her hangover before you prod her mind. "   
"But she's hurting. Hot sand on the face but must continue they would want me to endure. Sand turns to snow and hurt... "   
"Please, just … give her some rest. "The boy looks at her with a crooked smile and vanishes like a ghost.  
Marianne blinks a few times in wonder. She knows whose voice it was, but she is too afraid to turn. The Warden places a small tray next to her.   
"Salted fish and dry bread. The best remedy for a bad hangover. "She can barely look at him.   
"I fainted yesterday? "it's more of a statement than a question. "Yes, "he sounds like this is the most normal thing in the world, "Lambswool is strong. All the sugar goes right to your head. I reckon you had a little too much fun with your friends. I asked Cabot, and he told me I should bring you up here. Cole said he'd keep an eye on you. "  
"No, "she hesitates when he looks at her, questioning, "I wasn't here to celebrate, I – I work here. I shouldn't have drunk, but people insisted. Being the holidays and... "realization sets into her hurting head, "I'm surely keeping you from your own midwinters celebration! I am so sorry. Please don't trouble yourself on my behalf. I will be ok. Oh, I'm so sorry. "   
She tries to sit up but has to sit down as fast as she got up. He chuckles, but it doesn't sound happy. "Don't worry. Nobody is waiting for me. If you want to make it up to me... "Marianne gulps. He is a Warden, and Wardens are respectable, but...   
Tension rises in her body, her jaw clenches involuntarily. She feels trapped like a deer in a sling. The Warden coughs and scratches his beard.   
"I just meant, you could maybe ... Could you help me deliver some presents? I wanted to make this midwinter pleasant for the children. Many of them lost everything in Haven or fleeing here. "   
A breath she didn't notice she was holding leaves her lungs. She isn't sure if she understood him right. Presents? Hesitantly she answers, "I would like that." She pauses, "but only on one condition. "   
A small smile lights up her face. "Whatever you wish for, my lady. "   
"I don't even know your name Serah. "   
"My name is Blackwall. "   
"Very well ... Warden Blackwall, when do we start? "  
She thought she saw him flinch for a split second, but that must surely be her imagination  
\------  
Marianne cleans herself and goes to ask Cabot for the day off. She finds him, snoring on a stool by the bar, draped over the dwarf that traveled with the Qunari. Neither shouting nor shaking seemed to get any reaction save a few approving grunts, which would have to suffice. She steps out of the Heralds Rest. It had been a long time since she had time to stroll through the courtyard, and Marianne enjoys every second of it. 

Outside, the difference between her home and the Frostbacks is apparent. Besides the cold that seeps through her ragged cloak, the air is clean, no dust or sand, no suffocating blight tainted pollution. Her lungs involuntarily draw in a deep breath. Freezing cold mountain air fills her lungs and leaves it burning a little. Wrapping the patched, thin clothing tighter around her small body, she starts down the stairs.

On the lower level of the courtyard, some merchants have set up shop. On one table, cloth is laid out, and Marianne lets her fingers glide over the weaves and wools. So soft and warm, she can imagine herself wrapped up in it, all cozy and warm. For a moment, Marianne contemplates getting fabric for a new coat. The price makes her reconsider. She is content stroking the soft fabric longingly before she walks into the wooden building Warden Blackwall had pointed out to her. 

Whatever she expected, it is not this. It's a barn! Not even a big one. The warmth and smoke of an open fire filled the room. Marianne is sure that the Warden must have sleeping arrangements in the castle to rest after his hard work. Wardens are used to spartanic accommodations, but this is a big castle with many rooms. She shoves her thoughts aside and enters the barn to help him... do what exactly?

He turns around and greets her a big smile. "There you are! I already packed the gifts. I'll take the big bag," and he shoulders a sack that looks as big as Marianne. He motions her to a smaller bag that turns out to be filled with toffees and little cakes and oranges and other things she had never seen but that smell delicious. Her mouth waters, but Blackwall already started walking out, and she quickly shoulders her bag and follows him. It's not easy for her to keep up; she is pretty small even for a dwarf, but his load is apparently massive he has to stop every now and then to catch his breath. 

Whenever he hoists the load back up, Marianne is mesmerized by the play of his muscles underneath his tunic. His arms look so strong. Wardens are fighters, and it really shows. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, but every grunt of the Warden pulls her eyes right back towards his body. What is she doing? They continue in silence until they reach the lower living quarters, each occupied with their own thoughts.  
\-------------------  
The dark and narrow corridors are hard to navigate with a big bag. Warden Blackwall has a hard time not banging the sack against the walls. They stop in front of a worn old wood door that does not seem inviting to Marianne. When the Warden knocks, the sound reverberates through the air. 

For a moment, nothing happens, but when the door is slowly opened by two adults, the Warden greets them with a "happy midwinters day!" and Marianne hurries to do likewise. Two small children hide behind the adult's legs, and the Warden goes down to his knees to greet them.   
When the children see Blackwall, they start getting excited, still peering behind their parents; they ask if Warden Blackwall has a gift for them. 

"Of course I have. But have you two been good this year? The Maker sees everything."

The parents start laughing, and the children swear that they are the most well-behaved children in all of Thedas. The Warden is quickly convinced and reaches into his bag. Two wooden toys appear. "And this nice lady has something for you too!" Marianne scrambles to get a few sweets out and hands them to the children. 

"May Andraste guide you." Marianne blurts out, just like her mother had taught her. She feels the mother's eyes on her.

The children happily take the candy and vanish. The mother stays and still looks at her in a way that makes her uneasy.  
"I didn't know that there are dwarves that believe in the Maker ..."   
Her tone isn't unfriendly but Marianne's cheeks burn hot. She had other humans questioning her believes but this had just been an ubiquitous blessing. Her feet suddenly seem very interesting. 

"There are some. I grew up with Andrastes teachings and... and …"   
Blackwall physically steps between her and the other humans. "We wish you a happy midwinters day, but we have many more children to visit." The last words are spoken with a finality that leaves little room for discussion. The heavy door falls close after them, and Marianne practically flees further down the corridor.  
\-------------  
Blackwall turns to her, his eyes searching hers, "I should have asked if you are comfortable with the Andrastian faith. I just" He pauses for a second. "Did you ... do you?"   
"-Believe in the Maker? Yes, I ... it's difficult".   
"So, you are not ...?" His cheeks have turned red.  
"No,... no, I was brought up with Andraste and the Maker. Not ... the other stuff. No stone."   
"Ah, then I'm glad. I mean, not glad that you don't believe in the stone. I mean ... makers breath!"   
She nudges him friendly in the side. "It's ok. Let's deliver these before I eat them all." Rummaging through the bag, she fetches two caramel and unwraps them. One disappears in her mouth immediately, the other she offers to Blackwall, who grins and eats it. They continue their tour singing chantry songs and laughing.


End file.
